


Snow

by Lelek



Category: Swordspoint - Kushner
Genre: M/M, Pre-Swordspoint
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-12-20
Updated: 2009-12-20
Packaged: 2017-10-04 19:04:46
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,079
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/33126
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lelek/pseuds/Lelek
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>There's something special, almost remarkable, about the first snow of the year.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Snow

**Author's Note:**

  * For [fathomlesssky](https://archiveofourown.org/users/fathomlesssky/gifts).



> Originally assigned writer here! This is a little mostly happy, wintery sort of scene that fits in somewhere between Alec and Richard meeting and the beginning of Swordspoint. I had fun writing it and I hope you enjoy!

Alec makes a pretty sight sitting in the windowsill, the soft glow of their slowly dying fire catching in his hair and turning it to something not quite unlike old gold. He’s been there since shortly after dusk, watching the clouds roll in and cover the night sky. Now it’s late and Richard’s long since stopped practicing, eyelids growing heavy in the warmth and the stillness.

“Do you think it will snow?” Alec asks suddenly, voice slow like honey, the usual acrid tang absent in his calm. “Richard?”

“Hmm,” Richard replies noncommittally. “It might.”

“I hope it does.” He falls silent for a moment and Richard’s thoughts are just beginning to drift again when Alec continues like there hadn’t been a pause, “It’s been such a warm year, no snow at all.”

“It’s early yet.” Richard tilts his head to the side and watches his young scholar through half-lidded eyes. “Don’t complain too soon.”

Alec chuckles in response and it’s as languorous as his voice, intoxicating in the low light. “But I always complain, Richard. You wouldn’t have me any other way.”

He’s probably right, he often is about odd things, but there’s something about the mood between them and Richard decides to tease a little, rather than just give him that small victory. “Mm, maybe. You are pretty contrary.”

For some reason, perhaps the mood or perhaps just to spite him, Alec doesn’t rise to the bait. Instead, he pushes open the window, letting a gust of cold air in, so he can lean precariously outside, taking an audibly deep breath. Richard tenses, both from the sudden chill and because Alec’s mood can change in an instant and it wouldn’t be the first time he’d toyed with jumping out the window. The fall probably wouldn’t kill him, but that still doesn’t make it a good idea.

But Richard’s worry turns out to be for nothing when, a moment later, the window closes again and Alec returns to resting his temple against the glass. “It is going to snow soon. The clouds look right and I can smell it in the air.”

“Oh,” Richard says, letting himself relax again. “All right, then.”

“We’ll need more wood.”

Richard nods. “We have some money left. Maybe we’ll get some candles, too, the ones you like.”

“Perhaps.” Alec sighs lightly and traces abstract patterns across the glass with one fine finger.

There’s a hint of returning melancholy in his voice and slumping shoulders, and Richard straightens slightly to make an attempt at keeping it at bay. The contentment is nice and he’s enjoying it too much to just let it slip away. “Well, I suppose if we don’t, you can keep yourself amused by complaining all the time about how it’s too dark to read.”

“Hmm, perhaps,” he says again, but Richard thinks he might have heard a smile in his voice. Some of the darkness has lifted, at least, and that’s good enough.

“I don’t know why you want it to snow so badly,” Richard replies, because it’s something to say and silence can at times be dangerous. “You hate being cold.”

“The first snow is different.” Alec stretches out in the window as best he can, long limbs rearranging into an awkward position that must be more comfortable than it looks. He sighs and continues almost dreamily, “It feels different, almost like there might still be magic in the world.” He tilts his head to smile at Richard, eyes such a vivid green in the firelight that Richard’s breath catches in his throat. “It’s nonsense, of course, every reasonable person knows better, but there’s still something special, almost remarkable, about the first snow of the year.”

Special. Richard has always considered special to be a loaded word - laden with odd implications and hinting at unpleasantness if used just right. And Alec is such a subtle person, except for when he’s not at all, that even in the calm and the quiet Richard hesitates to simply take what he says for what it seems to be. But Alec is still smiling, small and still and dreamy, taking away any negative implications, and suddenly all Richard wants to do is pull him into his arms and not let him go.

He stays where he is. It’s too nice a moment to risk destroying it with an impulse.

“Oh, look...” Alec says suddenly, lifting his head and looking outside. “See, Richard? It’s started to snow.” He sounds very satisfied, as though they’d been arguing about it and now he’s won. Before Richard can respond, he’s thrown the window open again, leaning out farther than is wise and holding out one pale hand to catch a few of the large, wet flakes.

“Don’t fall out the window, Alec,” Richard says, smiling. “And don’t complain later that all the heat’s gone.”

“You’re no fun at all, Richard.” But he does close the window and come back inside. He turns to look over his shoulder, offering him the hand that had reached for the snow. “Come here and look. It’s almost enough to make one forget how miserable things are.”

It’s as good an invitation as any to give into his impulse, so he gets up and closes the distance between them, tugging Alec into his arms against his chest as he looks outside at the snow. It’s heavy and wet and in the morning the children of Riverside will be out in full force flinging it at each other and building forts in the alleys. Alec leans back against him and doesn’t fight the embrace.

They watch the snow silently for a few minutes, warm and still and content. Richard doesn’t believe in perfection, not really, but that moment comes almost alarmingly close. He reaches down and grabs Alec’s hand, lacing their fingers together. He’s always loved those hands, the elegance of them, the breeding and background they give away. Hands tell a story and sometimes Richard thinks that Alec’s alone could fill a book.

“We should go to Rosalie’s.” Alec tilts his head back to look up at Richard. “I want wine.”

But Richard shakes his head, smiling at him for a moment before returning his attention to the thin layer of white beginning to accumulate on the outer sill, the silent fall beyond. Normally, he isn’t so sentimental, but he’s not ready to let go. “In a minute.”

Alec just nods and looks back at the first snowfall of the year.

Special indeed.


End file.
